Wednesday, November 11, 2009

I don't want to brag, but there are lots of things in my house that only I know how to do. Here are a few:

Only I know how to put the new roll of toilet paper on the holder. I know that even mentioning this is akin to a stand-up comedian doing jokes about bad airline food. But it is my truth.

Only I know how to answer my cell phone when it is ringing. If my phone begins to ring downstairs, and I am upstairs, no matter how much help and encouragement I shout out to my family members, the most they can do is run upstairs, carrying the phone gingerly in front of them like they are in an egg-and-spoon race. Despite their hurry, the phone is never ringing by the time it reaches me and my skillful phone-answering fingers.

Only I am able to hang up a wet towel so it will dry properly. This personal triumph came as a surprise to me, since Matt has a decided height and reach advantage. I didn't think I could compete. But his technique leaves the contest wide open. He holds the damp towel by one end and flicks it over the shower wall, letting go and leaving the room before the towel has come to rest. There are style points to be won with this approach, but the result is that the towel is bunched up and dangling, and only gets dry on the edges. But at least he doesn't leave them on the floor like the kids. Or not usually.

Only I am able to remember that Tuesday is the day that the garbage and recycling needs to go to the curb. That's on me.

Are you similarly talented? If so, this is your space to shout it out to the world. We all want to know about your accomplishments.

18 comments:

Lucky you. Jimmy's technique for hanging up the wet towel is to leave it on the bathroom floor in a sopping heap, and assuming I will hang it up at some later time. Actually, his technique is rather affective.

Since Brenda has not chimed in, allow me: She has an incredible ability, bordering on the supernatural, to take a pantry filled with items that I do not recognize as food (powders/tinctures/unctions, etc.) and within minutes deliver a delicious meal. And I'm not talking your typical, "Honey, you've done it again with the tuna helper!" meal... I mean really delicious meals. She has also apparently contracted with a fresh-fruit fairy to keep the clementines and honeycrisps available all day to the children and visitors. Also, there's always a supply of walnuts and pistachios to snack on. This is the kind of food they serve in heaven, folks. Next on the list: she instinctively knows what the kids like. The park. The pool. The library. Having a costume trunk for make-believe. Throwing ropes over branches (think Tarzan, not An Occurence at Owl Creek Bridge). Encouraging the kids to invent a mythical kingdom in the backyard. The list goes on. Another uncanny ability: Brenda can operate on just a few hours of broken sleep. My inability to do this feels like a failure to me, until I realize that I am not sub-human. She is super-human. The point where I say, "I've gotta lie down for a few minutes," is the point where she's just getting started. Amazing. There's more, but I'll give someone else a chance.

I seem to be the only one to find anything. Anything includes the correct screwdriver, the gas can for a lawnmower I never use, and that one slip of paper that was put down in an undisclosed location but someone needs desperately or they will cease to exist.

Oh, my, yes. I am the only one who can get out of bed to tend to a screaming child, for instance. I'm the only one who can schedule appointments, notice that we're running low on anything, or interpret the dog's sign language.

I am talented in the same ways as you other women!!!! Making school lunches is another sole talent. I also have the ability to still do all my talents even with killer cramps and also when sick when others in the house would have to take to their beds.

i am the only one who knows how to get my 6 year old up and out the door in 5 minutes flat. it involves bringing him a toasted waffle to him in bed and dressing him while he is peeing. it's sick , but it works.

For me, it's (1) cleaning pots inside AND out (and properly DRYING the cast iron ones) and (2) getting irritated (irritated when someone ELSE hasn't cleaned the pot correctly and I pull it out of the cabinet, all ready to cook, only to discover dry egg, which forces me to stop everything to clean it, at which time I fly into a rage).